The Devil's Advocate
by Loverofnolight
Summary: In lust for vengeance, Tenma calls upon a malicious entity via the internet to help her achieve her ends. Soon she finds herself not as the puppetmaster, but the puppet, while coming to terms with her existence and her life since the events of School Rumble. 1st chapter is not mine, but an unfinished story by Shosetsu-ka 3-14, called "Darkly Dreaming Tenma." The rest is mine, enjoy
1. Chapter 1

It was a particularly nasty winter evening out in Yagami City. Snow, rain, and wind all mixed together to lash at the house. There was no way anyone in their right mind would want to be caught outside. Not tonight. This suited the young woman sitting at her computer just fine. It meant no visitors would be likely to show up unannounced. And she had something very important to take care of. Something she felt she should have done a long time ago.

Tenma Tsukamoto looked at the form she had filled out online. The form being already complete, all she had to do was click the submit button. Which had been the case for the past 30 minutes or so. Tenma had to admit that even after all this time and all the pain her friends and family had been through, especially Yakumo, this was still something that unsettled her, just a little bit. And that was saying something. There was almost nothing in this world that Tenma cared more about than her little sister, but…

If she submitted this…there was no turning back. Admittedly that was because the contract labeled, in no uncertain terms, that once the form was submitted, there was no reneging. At all. Tenma could understand why that was in the contract. This was not the sort of thing you agreed to lightly. She knew this wasn't a lawful act, no matter how she felt. But Tenma had long since stopped caring about legal and illegal. Besides, on a deeper level, she understood what it was really there for. Fundamentally speaking, even just asking someone to do something like this…it meant walking down a path that few came back from. Unscarred that is.

It was a horrifying thought she realized, but Tenma wasn't sure if she even wanted to come back given the choice. She couldn't be the upbeat, sunny one that did her best to always cheer others up. Not anymore. Because she knew in her heart that the other side of the world she had been so blissfully ignorant of could no longer be ignored. No, not since that night where everything flipped upside down and crashed down on the Tsukamoto family.

Three years. Three years of watching her sister suffer had slowly ground out just about every trace of sunshine in Tenma's heart. And it wasn't just Yakumo. Kenji Harima had suffered as well. Even though Yakumo had never once blamed him, Tenma knew. She knew Kenji blamed himself for what had happened, and it had eaten away at him. She knew because she felt exactly the same way. The boyfriend was supposed to protect the girlfriend. Big sister was supposed to protect little sister. Three years ago they both failed.

Three years ago Tenma had been at Eri Sawachika's house, with her other friends Akira Takano and Mikoto Suou, for a sleepover. Akira had received a phone call late that night. It wasn't until Akira's voice had started rising a bit that everyone stopped what they were doing. Akira was always in such control of her emotions that any kind of loss of composure was a surprise. And that was before she yelled at the person on the other end. The other girls just gaped at how angry Akira sounded. And when Akira dropped a chess piece she had been holding, they saw something that Akira had probably never felt before.

Shock.

The person on the other end had been Hiroyoshi Asou, a fellow classmate. He probably chose to call Akira instead of Tenma for fear of what might happen if he told her directly what he had come across. After closing up at the restaurant they worked at, he had been walking Sarah Adiemus, his coworker and Yakumo's best friend, to the Tsukamoto home for a sleepover the two had planned with Tenma away at one. Sarah was feeling a little worried since Yakumo wasn't answering her calls.

After turning down a street that Sarah told Asou was a shortcut she and Yakumo used, Sarah was once again trying to call when Asou brought her to an abrupt stop. The street was poorly lit…and he could hear…_something_. He almost figured he was hearing things, but he didn't feel like taking chances on a street like this. In daytime it was probably fine, but he had no idea what would possess either girl to use this street at night. It was probably a good thing Asou hadn't taken no for an answer about walking Sarah to the Tsukamoto's.

Keeping Sarah close, he kept an ear out for that noise. As it grew louder, he realized Sarah still had the phone pressed to her ear. A random thought flitted through Asou's head. Was it possible…no, that was unlikely. If that was Yakumo's phone he was hearing, wouldn't she answer it? This would have made Asou feel better, were it not for the next logical thought that came screaming at him. His heart started beating just a little bit faster. What if Yakumo _couldn't_ answer?

That thought really bothered him. While not exactly close to the girl, Asou nonetheless would feel bad if Yakumo was in some kind of trouble. He needed to check. Just to be sure. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't and his intuition had been correct. He told Sarah to stay just a bit behind him. Spotting a nearby alley, he moved closer. The noise, which sounded kind of musical, seemed to be coming from there.

Dialing Yakumo's number once more, Sarah was starting to feel really nervous. Yakumo's phone had gone to voicemail again, and Asou was acting kind of odd. Why was he walking towards that alley? It was a dead end. There was nothing down there as far she knew. And was she hearing things? She had to be, because whatever it was sounded like Yakumo's phone when it rang.

Sarah almost didn't see Asou stop, so concentrated on her phone as she was. Asou was staring down the alleyway, a look of disbelief on his face. Weird. What did he see? She looked over to the left. And screamed.

Asou could barely think straight. What the hell was _this_! He had been serious when he told Sarah he didn't want her walking home alone in the dark. All sorts of trash used the cover of darkness to hide in while waiting to strike. Thugs. Murderers. Rapists. Asou had wanted Sarah to take him seriously when he told her that the idea of her walking around at night alone worried him, but she just laughed calling him a worrywart. It had irritated him that she was so flippant about it. He gritted his teeth.

But that didn't mean he needed a _fucking_ _example_!

Sarah was screaming the girl's name. Yelling for her to wake up. What happened. Why. Yakumo! This was…this was just so wrong. What had she been doing here? Where the hell was Harima? Shouldn't he have been walking her home?

Asou only vaguely remembered dialing a number on his phone, one he figured he might have to use someday. It was only pragmatic to think so. But Asou never thought it would be for something like this. As he heard the ambulance arriving, all he could do was stare.

Stare at Yakumo sitting on the ground, back to the wall with a crying Sarah clutching at her. Her clothes were all messed up and torn in a few places, her book bag nearby. There was what looked like blood on her face. It was a little hard to tell in the alley lighting. There wasn't much evidence of a struggle, if any, it seemed. ...Wait, evidence. This was a crime scene, wasn't it? Damn, wasn't one of the rules in all those cop shows "don't disturb the crime scene" or something?

Well, just to be on the safe side…moving over to Sarah to try and draw her away just a little, Asou happened to get a closer look at Yakumo's face. When he realized what the stuff he thought was blood _really_ was, he almost gagged. Whoever did this, he thought, was a sick fuck.

When the ambulance showed a few moments later, Asou pulled Sara back some more and let the paramedics work. When Sarah tried to go with Yakumo into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics tried to stop her, which only succeeded in making her more hysterical. Asou was already in a foul mood, and seeing Sarah lose control was making him even angrier.

Somehow keeping the frustration out of his voice, he managed to convince the paramedics to let them ride with Yakumo in the ambulance, though Asou had to sit up front. Truth be told, that didn't bother him much. Sarah being the best friend after all, it was only fair. What bothered him was the growing realization that he needed to make another call. One that he really didn't want to make for obvious reasons. His conscience didn't care. Taking out his phone again, he dialed another number. At the very least, he would dial someone that could handle the situation.

Asou's memories of that night and the months-long nightmare that followed had dimmed to a bearable extent in the years that followed. It helped that he had decided to become a police officer, and then detective soon after, in a way to focus his frustration on something good. Tenma didn't have that luxury.

That night and everything after was stuck in her head with a clarity like crystal. And she didn't have the luxury of a job or even a hobby where she could channel all of her hatred. Because that's what it was. If things had just ended after the trial of the man who had done this Yakumo…

It may not have been easy (and who's to say they would have even been happier?), but they would have had a chance at moving on. There were limits to everyone's tolerance. And instead of leaving well enough alone, the man who raped Tenma's sister decided to take her limits…

And set them on fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Tenma made up her mind, recalling the horrors of the past. Her hand quivered over the mouse, which was still positioned over the "Submit" button.

"Oh, God," she said, as her finger pressed down at last. Tenma had never been a particularly superstitious person, mostly because Yakumo had always been there to protect her when she was younger. She had always had her sister by her side, which meant that everything would be alright.

That comfort was gone now.

In the moment after the deal was sealed, she squeezed her eyes shut. Also in that instant, images of Yakumo before the tragedy flashed through her mind; Yakumo fetching the cat, Iori, out from underneath the temple with food, Yakumo gathering wood with Harima on a camping trip, Yakumo cooking curry and then mixing up the lunch boxes, resulting in Tenma's mortification when she only had rice to give Kurasuma.

Ah, those days were years ago, when everything was so much simpler, when the future

looked bright when looked upon with the ones who you love. And yet, those bright, beautiful days seemed almost tangible now, tauntingly reaching out for Tenma t touch, but she never could again. Far too much had changed, and as soon as the rush of hot wind hurtled through the room and nearly knocked the lightweight off her chair, she knew that things would never be the same again.

Tenma kept her eyes shut as tight as she could, although she could her breathing that was not her own in the room. "Oh God, what have I done, what have I done?' she whimpered to herself, shaking and holding her knees with her hands. Every sensation, every sound was ten thousand times louder, and she nearly went deaf when there was a reply, confirming her worst fears; that this was real.

"Eh-hm," came the voice, a little high-pitched yet decidedly male. It sounded about as malicious as its aura felt, and Tenma knew she would soon implode, there was so much evil pressure in the room. 'Tsukamato Tenma, you have merely called upon the dark forces to guide you in your quest for vengeance. Surely you couldn't have forgotten about that. It would be rather difficult to, in my opinion. But my opinion doesn't matter. From now on, I am yours, Tenma-dono, master. We are one and the same, until our contract is completely fulfilled. I look forward to getting to know one another!" He ended with a shrill little giggle that raised the hair on Tenma's neck. _Pluck up the courage, girl, _she imagined that her old friend Eri would say about now. Then Eri would flip her long blonde ponytails and saunter off, her head held high as always.

Slowly, she loosened the muscles around her eyes, and squinted in the general direction of the voice. In the darkness, she could make out a slim, tall form, enclothed in black. Lightening struck at that exact moment, illuminating the figure so his shadow leapt across the room. "Be brave, Tenma," she muttered, and opened her eyes all the way.

The figure had moved in the five seconds since the lightening strike so that their inches were mere inches apart. Tenma stared into its eyes, but then began to shake violently in fear. She opened her mouth to let out a long scream, but before she had uttered a sound, a long, pale hand was clamped over it. She couldn't help it now; a tear fell down her cheek and she bit her lip, tasting blood.

"Oh, c'mon, Tsukamato-san, I'm not that scary," he said, laughing, examining the claws on his other hand. In retrospect, he wasn't all that frightening, thought Tenma. In fact, the demon was beautiful. He was very tall and lean, with skin so pale that it was nearly the color of untouched snow in the winter. His hair flashed black and silver, according to the strikes of light coming from the window. In fact, he didn't even have claws, just long, black nails. He would have looked just like a normal, but strangely beautiful, Japanese boy cosplaying as the Grim Reaper, except for the eyes. They were slanted and long-lashed, but for the red irises and absence of pupils. He could have almost passed for human, but the atmosphere around him screamed "unhuman" so hard that Tenma wanted to cover her ears. "Well, maybe I am, a little," he whispered, playing with her hair, twirling the pigtails which had long-since drooped around his fingertips. "Well, I would absolutely _love _to show you exactly how scary I can get, but we have some business to discuss. May I sit?" he asked, motioning at her unmade futon in the corner.

Too scared to do anything else, Tenma nodded, gulping.

"Thank you, master," he replied, sliding himself under the covers, positioning himself on an elbow, a rebellious glint in his horrible eyes. "Just wondering, did you read the Terms of Contract all the way through? If you didn't, you'll probably need a few helpful explanations, courtesy of myself."

Tenma gulped again. "Well, I tried to, honestly, but I was never very good at reading kanji and it was difficult…"

"I see," he said, nodding. "Well, at least you talk. My last master never said a single word to me, don't even _ask _how I got my directions from him… Anyway, they make those things far too long and dull anyway. Let me break it down; I am basically your slave until you fulfill your purpose, no matter how long or difficult it may be to achieve. However, once it is fulfilled, I am free, and you can no longer call upon me. I'm still entitled to visit every once in a while, though!" he laughed, wriggling his eyebrows at Tenma, which was probably intended to look comical but ended up being gruesome.

"Anyway, once you die, when you die, which we have absolutely no say in, unless we are understaffed and need extra assistance, your soul becomes ours and you become one of us! Which isn't all too bad, but the hours are horrible," he considered, stroking his chin.

"One of…one of _us_?" Tenma exclaimed, horrified.

"Why, of course! You didn't think it was only me, did you? Silly Tenma! No, there are thousands of us! Yearly conventions and everything! It's quite fun."

Tenma's lip trembled, and due to the fact that she hadn't breathed in quite a long time, fainted off her chair. She was brought back to consciousness, however, by hitting her head on the wooden floor. She sat up, rubbing it.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to protect me from injuries and stuff?" she asked, annoyed.

"Not necessarily. I just do what I have to, direct orders. All the rest is completely optional." He smirked at her bemused expression.

"Isn't that convenient," she murmured. "All right, if its orders you want, its orders you'll get. Now get out of my futon."

He was out before she could blink. Tenma shook her head, still not comprehending her situation. "Alright," she said, climbing into her futon herself. "Now tuck me in."

In a matter of seconds, her pillows were fluffed, and her blankets were tucked in so well that they prevented mobility. "A little looser, please," she gasped for air. They loosened, and she breathed again. "Thank you. You can sleep in the guest room, to the right of mine. Don't do any demon things, and don't sneak into my room during the night. Don't try anything funny, either. You can go." He headed towards her open door, but something made her stop him. "Hey, come back here," she said. He zoomed to her side.

"I think its best that I know your name, demon, if we'll work together like this."

"Fair enough," the demon replied. "It's Itazura. Although you can call me anything you want to. It doesn't matter."

"'Mischief', huh?" voiced Tenma. "That can't be your real name. But that doesn't matter either. Suits you well. Now good to bed."

"Yes, Master Tenma," he replied, and left, sliding the door shut behind him.

And despite all the strange things that had occurred that evening, and her fear of what would take place tomorrow, Tenma fell asleep within moments of closing her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Tenma's sleep was troubled with undefined images of outstretched hands and Yakumo's voice, calling out to her in panic. She awoke with a scream, quickly sitting up, adjusting her eyes to the darkness. However, Tenma could also sense another presense in the room, standing in the corner by her desk. She caught her breath, momentarily oblivious of the occurrences of last night. Tenma gathered her courage and prepared to make a break for it, but paused when she caught a whiff of the air, which smelled of bacon. Just one sniff and memories crashed through her brain like waves hitting a sandbank. Yakumo had always prepared the most wonderful breakfasts for them, whether it was traditional or Western, and Tenma had always licked her plate clean every morning, laughing and complimenting her sister on her housemaker's skills. She remembered her uncertain dreams from last night, and reached out to console Yakumo, even just to touch her sister, but before she could reach far enough…

SLAM. The curtains were forcefully pushed back from the window, and light came flooding in. Tenma raised her arm to cover her eyes, snapping away from the source of this new warmth, the window. The figure in the corner raised his arms cheerfully, and it all came rushing back to Tenma.

"Ohiyo, Tenma-san! The day greets you most honorably, as do I, master. Forgive me for trespassing into your room, but you did not clarify on the rules for mornings. Therefore, I decided that it would be best to prevent potential laziness and get you up with the sun's rising! Now please feel free to sample my complimentary breakfast services!" Itazura bowed low, gesturing to the meal try on his way down.

"Oh, Itazura-san, you didn't have to make me breakfast…" Tenma muttered, rubbing her eyes. She blinked warily at Itazura, who was still wearing his dark robe, looking as beautiful and frightening as he had last night.

"Tenma-san, I wouldn't be honoring my position if I didn't ensure that every moment of her life, Tenma-chan would have the utmost comfort provided. Please, let me do my job."

Tenma frowned, slightly annoyed, but threw her covers back and stood up. She wandered over to her desk and took a seat at her chair, smoothing out her pajama pants.

She tugged at her disheveled hair and picked at a piece of artfully placed bacon.

"While she is eating, would Tenma-chan mind if I brushed her hair? I would just like to look out for her beauty and well-being." Tenma nodded unsurely, but stiffened slightly when Itazura's long, thin fingers threaded through her hair, causing a most peculiar sensation on her scalp. "I would like to request that Tenma-chan calm herself," he laughed. "Otherwise she will have to go out in public with a rat's nest on her head." She settled down again, and they spent the rest of her meal in silence.

"Demon," she attempted suddenly, and haughtily. "Don't you eat? You haven't touched the meal. You should eat, if you'll work so hard."

The demon laughed again, brushing her hair to shining perfection. "Don't worry master, I assure you that I eat." He did not elaborate and Tenma didn't ask him to, knowing full well that she wouldn't like the answer.

Itazura finished with her hair about a minute later, and placed a hand-mirror before her. She gazed upon her reflection. Her hair was very long now, almost to her navel, and he had fashioned her pigtails into a single braid, nestled on her back amongst the rest of her dark hair. She looked older than she had ever looked, and regal, a word she never would have used to describe herself. "Thank you," she said breathily "It's lovely."

"Ah, Tenma-chan, you do not have to thank me; I live to serve you," he said with a smile, pretending to wipe a tear away from his cheek. Tenma almost smiled back at his kindness, but one glance at his eyes sent her reeling back in fear.

She supposed that she might never get used to their color, but it was more than that. The absence of pupils made her feel like she was falling into an abyss when she gazed past his long lashes.

"Are you frightened of me, Tenma-dono?" the demon inquired, smirking slightly.

"I can't see why I wouldn't be," she replied haughtily.

"Ah, but it way you who called me here, Tenma-san. Never forget that."

Tenma didn't think that he would ever actually _let _her forget.

Itazura continued without a reply. "Now that you've consumed your daily early-morning supplement, I suggest that we begin discussion."

Tenma gulped down the remaining dregs of her orange juice.

"So… do you know why I wanted help?" she asked hesitantly.

"Bits and pieces of it. I only ever receive a very brief and washed-out summary of my job. It's really inconvenient, not knowing how much effort I have to put in, but you'll get used to it," he assured her with a dark smile. Tenma also decided that Itazura would constantly remind her that she sold her soul. If she didn't understand any other part of the Terms of Contract, she understood that much.

Tenma was reluctant to start speaking, not knowing how much Itazura already knew about her unusual circumstances. With a blink of his eyes, he seemed to understand that immediately. "Okay," he said. "Let's just say that I've had no prior knowledge of any of your problems. Could you start explaining at the very beginning, then?"

Tenma gulped. This wasn't something she wanted to revisit. In fact, this was something that she had kept holed up for years now… three, to be exact.

Three years of utter deterioration and pain and suffering and complete hell.

Three years, in which the future turned from bright and optimistic, to a dismal one that stored no success for Tenma. In essence, the day that they found Yakumo was also the day that Tenma stopped living. All her hopes and dreams, gone. Crushed.

Itazura must have sensed the inner darkness that his words had resurfaced, because ever so gently, he laid one of his pale hands atop Tenma's in comfort.

Tenma looked at him, her eyes slightly wet, in remembering everything which she had lost. "You know, we don't need to talk about this now. Forget I brought it up," Itazura begged. If there was one thing the demon couldn't stand, it was a young woman crying.

Being the hopeless romantic he was, (or, at least, once had been) there was a beautiful tragedy in a young woman's tears. Once, long ago, he had proudly written in poetry of his that tears were the dripping elixir of the soul. There was something extremely personal about tears. Tenma's sadness seemed so private that he felt uncomfortable viewing it. Itazura didn't feel right watching, when he didn't know if he was privy to see something so personal in the first place.

Tenma squared her shoulders when she saw how helpless the demon looked. She had been weak before, yes, but she had called upon him because she had found strength.

Tenma knew how desperate a person would be to exchange their soul to accomplish a task. She didn't want Itazura to think her pathetic, if he didn't know the full story of her suffering. Surely to an outsider she would look like a drama queen, she knew it. It would appear like she exaggerated her pain, but in reality it had been worse than anyone could imagine. She needed to let Itazura know the extent of her madness in the past three years. Even if he was a demon, even if he had no soul nor beating heart, surely she could touch some remnant of compassion somewhere deep inside him.

Tenma cleared her throat, and wiped at her eyes with the hand that wasn't being held by the demon. "I hope you'll forgive me," she apologized. "It's been a long time since I talked about what happened, and I've never done it in such detail as I have now…"

Itazura patiently waited for her to regain her composure. Eventually, she began to talk, and what a story she told…


	4. Chapter 4

"I suppose it began one night, three years ago," she began. "Really, it had been horrible weather, kind of like last night. I was having a sleepover with my three best friends at one of their houses. It had been a typical day, nothing out of the ordinary. It was summer vacation and we had just been let out. I remember the sheer joy in those first few days out of school, after a year in which I repeatedly failed and made a fool of myself. I was never a good student, you know. I remember that I had gone out to do some shopping for Yakumo…"

"Yakumo?'

"My sister. I went to the supermarket for her, because she wanted to make food for my slumber party. She was always so considerate."

Itazura was surprised that she had started off talking so well about her sister. Even three years later he knew her pain. He knew her pain much better than he would ever care to admit. Tenma continued.

"So, Yakumo made lunch, and I sat and watched _Three For The Kill, _and then I went over for the sleepover. I thought I would see Yakumo in the morning, but it didn't turn out like that…"

As she told her story, the vivid scenes rushed through her mind like a movie. Colorful lights flashed, mainly red and blue, and she delved headfirst into her memory…

"Who wants more tea?" exclaimed Mikodo gleefully, sloppily pouring the kettle's content's into Eri's cup.

"Ugh, watch where you splash!" screeched Eri, shaking her hand free of the hot water where it spilled on her. "I swear, Miko, anyone else wouldn't think this was tea, the way you're carrying on…"

"Yes, Mikodo, for once I agree with Sawichka." Akira's emotionless features betrayed no sentiment, even as the flying drops of boiling water traveled uncomfortably close to her short red hair. "Use more grace while pouring tea. It's disrespectful to make a mockery out of the ceremony."

Tenma and her friends sat around the low table, sampling the dinner that Yakumo had made for them. Tenma was particularly excited because tonight there was a new episode of _Three For The Kill, _and she had been watching the marathon of proceeding episodes all day long, much to Yakumo's dismay. It had been storming all afternoon, and outside the clouds were still grey and the weather unbearably humid.

"You guys! Hush up for a second!" Tenma screeched, practically running around the table in excitement. "I need to find the remote because the new episode starts in five minutes! Drop everything and search!"

There was a consensus of annoyance amongst her friends, but they appeased her. She had brought food for them (or at least, Yakumo had). Eventually, Eri found the control box under the table. Tenma stole it from her hands in a second and started jumping around the room with it, improving a fight song for the characters of her favorite show. The girls sat back, watching her, thoroughly entertained. Akira sat behind the rest, waiting for her hone to ring. She needed to receive the details of an overseas mission next week, and had her hand on her phone to get the call the moment the phone rang. She would excuse herself to use the bathroom, and request her informer to speak as quickly as possible to avoid rousing suspicion in her friends. Time was of the essence no matter what in her line of work. She couldn't have a single slip-up, or her cover would be completely blown. Above all, she couldn't let her friends know what she really was. She never exactly lied to them about her job; she would always tell them half-truths.

Akira supposed that she should feel bad about keeping such important information from her best friends, but she realized that discretion was much more important, especially when her silence oftentimes affected the well-being of the entire country. So when her phone finally did ring, she had her finger on the 'accept' button in half a second, already standing up and asking to use the restroom.

But what she didn't expect was for the person on the opposite line to start speaking. It was an unbreakable rule of fact that before information could be relayed, Akira must speak a code word or phrase, to ensure it was she listening in.

However, the voice now issuing from her mobile wasn't that of her extremely shady source. Instead, it was the shaky, panicked voice of Hiroyoshi Asou.

Extremely confused, Akira held the phone up to her ear. Asou's voice sounded frightened and disturbed. "Akira! Akira! Are you there?!" he almost yelled.

"Yes, I'm here," answered Akira after she had gotten over the initial surprise of hearing him in such a state.

"Good. Akira, are you with Tenma-chan?"

"Yes, I am," Akira asked suspiciously. "What's going on? Why do you sound so breathless? Has something happened?"

"I need to talk to you, Akira-san. Something terrible has happened and I didn't want to talk to Tenma-chan directly. I need you to tell Tenma what I'm about to tell you in the most gently possible way, okay?"

Akira was getting more and more suspicious by the minute. "All right," she agreed, unsurely. "What is it?"

Asou sighed. "I was walking Sarah-san home to drop her off at the Tsukamoto's. She was going to sleep over with Yakumo. I didn't want her walking in the dark through the city, so I insisted on taking her home. Sarah was worried because Yakumo wasn't picking up her phone. We were walking next to the alleyways by the park, and as Sarah was calling, I heard a phone ring from one of the alleys. And then…"

"And then what?" Akira was not liking the direction this was heading in at all. In fact, she was surprised to find a gathering sense of dread rising in her chest.

"And then I went into the alley, to see where the noise was coming from. There was this dark… mass, just lying there, not moving. The sound was a ringtone, coming from its pocket. I ran back, to make sure that Sarah-san was okay, but she had seen me go into the alley. She wanted to see what was behind me, but even though I hadn't seen the face, I knew who it was, lying there. I tried to keep her back, But Sarah turned her over…and…and…" Asou sniffed at the air in an attempt to keep his tears in.

"It was just so horrible. I don't know who would do something like that to her. Poor Yakumo, poor Yakumo…"

Akira's heart dropped. "What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered into the phone. "What are you saying, Asou?!" her volume increased considerably.

Eri and Mikodo sat in front of her, looking very concerned. Eri mouthed, _What's happening? _to her. Tenma, oblivious to the situation, was still punching the air and creating verses for her fight song. She was in her own glorious Tenma world, and Akira knew that if this story was going to end up where she thought it would, Akira would be the one to set fire to that innocence.

"Akira, I'm in the ambulance right now," Asou told her. "We're heading to the hospital, and I'm sorry, but you're all going to have to come. She's still alive, but just barely. They say they can still save her."

"Godammit, Asou, you're not answering my question! What happened?'

"We don't know, Akira. All we know is that when we found her, she was nearly dead. Someone raped her, Akira, and brutalized her. They tried cutting her throat but did a bad job of it. She's lost a lot of blood and her head's nearly been bashed in."

Akira's eyes pricked and she dropped the chess piece she had held in her other hand. It was a souvenir from her last mission, in Paris. Someone had died, completing that mission with her. An intern. She had never even known his name, but he had the most extraordinary expression on his face when the spray of bullets took him down. It was almost like he was happy, dying. She later found out that he had had suicidal tendencies, brought on by his depression. Figures.

The chess piece spun as it hit the floor, bouncing when it finally collapsed.

The queen had fallen.


	5. Chapter 5

"In the days after that night, I wouldn't speak to anyone," Tenma told the demon. "I was in a state of shock. Stuff like that only happened on crime shows, and I wasn't even allowed to watch crime shows because Yakumo said it would give me nightmares. Stuff like that that didn't happen to normal people, to me. 'What had Yakumo done to deserve this?' I kept asking myself. I couldn't come up with any answer.

She was in critical state for a few days. Yakumo was always weak and

sickness-prone, but I never took good enough care of her. Even after they were sure they

had saved her, I still wasn't allowed to visit, because she was in such a bad state. Later I

learned that they had needed to stitch up her throat and perform surgery on her internal

damage. Weeks passed and I still wasn't allowed in. In a lack of judgment, I decided to

sneak in to visit her during the night. But they hadn't told me that her attacker had

brutalized her as badly as he had. They didn't tell me that when he stabbed her it,

damaged her vocal chords beyond repair. The doctors didn't tell me that he had smashed

her head over and over; against a wall, with a brick. They… they…"

Tenma choked at this portion.

"They didn't tell me she would suffer permanent brain damage. They never told me that

when I found her, sleeping in her bed, her entire face bandaged up, she wouldn't even

respond when I tried to wake her up. She looked at me, but she didn't really see me,"

Tenma said vapidly. "It was like I wasn't even there. They found me still there the next

morning, crying my eyes out."

The demon had heard sadder stories than hers; oh yes, much sadder.

Maybe even his was sadder, but it still couldn't compare to the truly awful things he

heard in his line of work. Itazura supposed that he should tell Tenma what to expect when

she died. But it would just scare her, he knew, and she would want to get out of the deal. Except she couldn't. A contract is a contract, and it's concrete with devil, considering how capable his lawyers are.

"So basically, your sister is a vegetable," he said as insensitively as he could. He figured that he might as well start giving her good examples of demonly behavior as soon as possible. Despite everyone's predictions, Hell had become understaffed.

With the invention of the internet, the best economists and tarot card-readers in Hell foresaw that there would be a new influx of demons at the gates, since now it would be much easier to find demons to sell your soul to. And that had been the case, at first. However, to everyone's chagrin, it was soon discovered that the population of believers in the supernatural had gotten _astoundingly _low. Really, really bad. As it turns out, atheists and heretics really do all go to Hell, so the port of the River Styx resembled Ellis Island really closely nowadays. The drop in believers impacted the market for demonic assistance pretty badly. Not to mention that the internet was no longer used to find extraterrestrial connections; instead it had become a haven for amateur porn and pirated music. According to population experts in Hell, that means that soon enough Hell will have an even bigger influx of fifteen-year-old males wanking themselves to _Butt Sluts 3, _and little girls downloading the latest One Direction album, because her pirating-savvy, underage father will be too lazy to buy her an iTunes giftcard.

Unfortunately, that meant less vacation time for the already over-worked demons of Hell. Especially for the demons in charge of transportation, when they aren't convincing people to sell their souls. For Satan's sake, Hell's trains looked worse than India's! It was a nightmare to get from the Planes of Doom to Pit of Eternal Damnation!

This sudden population boom prompted Itazura to ditch the overcrowded landscape. It was really disappointing to leave, at first. He had loved his job in Hell's doubly evil beauracracy; it had literally taken him centuries to get that top-notch position. Just seeing the looks on newcomer's faces when he told them that he had 'accidentally lost' their important records never got old.

Hell had been wonderful. He had a penthouse apartment, (which was Hell-state-provided, for all his hard work) and his roommate was Genghis Khan. Satan was so impressed with G.K's evil that he gave him the apartment, even though he had only done slave labor for two centuries. Although G.K. _had _already started up three peasant rebellions in that time fame, and Satan probably just wanted him satisfied and non-threatening. Itazura had multiple girlfriends, both demon and human.

He was living the good life, but everything went to shit when humans started being assholes, and all ending up in Hell.

Now Itazura likes his comfort zone, but when Mao Tse-tung was relocated to their apartment to accommodate the ever-increasing surge of newly dead, Itazura decided enough was enough. It must have been Mao's constant bitching about the wonders of collectivism, but something about that man pushed him to leave.

So now here he was, listening to this girl's story. He, a highly-ranked demon, over three thousand years old, catering to her every need. It was an embarrassment.

Maybe this could be a vacation, he had thought. Traveling the world, presenting Lord Satan with all these new willing demons to serve him and help expand the Underworld. In the meantime, Itazura could avoid rush hour in Hell, which had been known to last as long as fifteen days.

He almost felt sorry for this girl, Tenma, he thought as she told her story. Her first few centuries as a demon would be the shittiest of her afterlife; only decades if she was a really hard worker. And judging from her simple language and unmotivated appearance, she didn't seem to be one. Then again, she had brought it on herself by not reading the Terms of Contract all the way through. Really, a foolish thing to do. Maybe the computer geeks in Hell should hack into the global internet and make Hell's demon contract the Terms of Contract for suspicious movie downloads, Itazura thought. The understaffing would be fixed in a few days, tops, if their deaths were helped along.

Oh well. He should just do her job quickly, and then he could move on to the next potential future demon underling. Push Tenma in front of a bus the moment their contract was through; he'd teach her the ropes of being a demon himself, if she wasn't too annoying. She really needs to stop talking so much, though. It's irritating.

The girl was still in shock over his last comment, he realized.

"I…I mean, I guess so…" Tenma's eyes began to water and her lips to quiver.

_Oh, shit, _Itazura mentally cursed. _How many times a day can this girl cry? _

"Listen, I didn't mean it, Tenma-dono," he said cautiously. "It's a bad habit of mine to be insensitive; forgive me."

"It's fine," she said softly. "I shouldn't be as affected by stuff like that as I am. You're right. She is a vegetable." Tenma gulped, and straightened up in her chair. "And you're here because you're going to make the guy who did this to her pay."


	6. Chapter 6

"And how exactly am I going to do that?" the demon asked, folding his arms. "Do you have any specific plans to take him down?"

"Well," Tenma gulped. "Not really. I just figured that you would be doing the thinking stuff… and the revenge stuff…"

"I see." Itazura sighed. Not once had he met a human who had actually planned out exactly what they wanted the demon to do. In their desperation, they had all just wanted him to hurt their enemy as much as possible. Tenma didn't have a clue about what she really wanted him to do to the rapist, but that wasn't new to him.

"Alright. But why go this far for vengeance? Surely this man must have been found and tried for the crime."

Tenma nodded. "It took a while for them to find him, but yes. He was in police custody or a few months. It was really, really terrible going through the trial, or even finding out who would do such a thing. He turned out to be insane, so they let him off. Yakumo hadn't died, so they couldn't give him life. They couldn't kill him, either, because he was mad. Instead, he was sent to an asylum, just on the outskirts of Tokyo."

"…Okay…" the demon iterated. "So they got the bastard. You accept what's happened and move on with our life. Why bear this grudge?" Itazura was starting to get annoyed with his master. Why had she sold her soul for so petty a reason? To get vengeance on a madman? What a waste.

"Because he wasn't ever mad," Tenma explained. "He was always determined. If he wanted to be acquitted, then he would be acquitted. If he had to play insane to get free, then he would play insane."

"So he wasn't insane. He fucked your sister and gave her permanent brain damage, but he wasn't insane when he did it. Hallelujah."

"You don't understand," Tenma countered vehemently. "He broke out of the ward and has been on the run ever since. He wasn't mad then, but he sure as hell is now. His obsession took over him; I don't even know how to explain it. But for the past two years he never left me alone. He was always there, watching, whenever I tried to leave. He would always threaten me back into coming back. Almost every day I would receive messages from him, asking where Yakumo was. He found her, once, he found the facility she was in and he tried to take her out. The hospital found her just in time, but he got away again. I had her moved, but it's only gotten worse. I don't pick up the phone anymore," she told him. "It's almost always him on the other line."

As if on cue, the telephone rang. "Don't pick it up," Tenma warned him. "Let the machine do it." It rang four more times, and on the fifth, the answering machine took a message. At first, Itazura couldn't make out any sounds except for heavy, rasping breathing.

Then, just when Itazura thought the man on the other end wouldn't speak, he did. He had a low voice, but it sounded breathy and panicked. "Tsukamato-san," the man started off. He sounded nearly hysterical in his manner of speaking.

"Tsukamato-san, I've missed you." The man giggled for a few seconds, but then broke out into a fit of coughs. When he spoke again, his throat sounded dry.

"It's been so long since we've met, Tenma-chan. I feel cheated. I wish that you would come out to play, you so look like Yakumo used to…"

Tenma sobbed dryly, staring at the phone in horror.

"Not nearly as beautiful as Yakumo, of course, since you were never very pretty, but something about the eyes. Nevertheless, I would still take you like I took her… but since you are worthless compared to your sister, I'd finish the job…"

Itazura noted that the man was obviously deranged. He also sounded sick, due to his rasping and constant coughing. A product of hard living; in the streets, maybe?

"Tenma, Tenma, I miss you death," the man sang. "Literally. Once I get my hands on you… it could be any time, dear. I could sneak up on you in the middle of the night, you know. I could pick you up and choke you with my long brown claws. I have big teeth; the better to eat you with, my dear. I could come inside you and rip you open like a rag doll…"

Itazura watched as Tenma became paralyzed in terror, barely supporting herself in her chair. She started sinking to the floor, but Itazura caught her and held the girl still.

"But if ever you feel up to seeing me, give me a call, okay? In the meantime, I'll be waiting, watching…" The receiver clicked and the message ended.

Tenma stood, shaking, and crossed the room to delete it.

Itazura sighed. "You know, if you hadn't sold your soul for my assistance in this matter, I would've told you to keep the messages as proof of harassment. The police could trace the call and try him for that, at least."

"The police can't help me. Not anymore. It's gone too far for police justice. I need real vengeance, Itazura-san. You need to help me."

"I'm _obligated _to help you. The contract wouldn't be carried out if I didn't and that would result in a few centuries of very nasty paperwork. Trust me, Tenma-dono, nobody likes reviewing Hell's paperwork, even if it means spending a few centuries in the Fiery Pit to avoid it."

"So Hell is real? There is a Hell and a Devil?"

"Hell is the most real thing anyone can experience. If you think this life is anything but a short, vivid dream, you are desperately wrong."

"And what about the Devil?" Even though she tried hard to hide it, her voice hushed in fear when she said the word.

"Satan exists as much as you or I do. He rules the Underworld much like your image of God, actually. He has all and no forms, and he is everywhere but nowhere. He is everything and nothing. I met what would've been his left pinkie, if he had been in his giant form. Instead, it transformed itself into a bright pink giraffe for the day. Satan works in funny ways."

"Is there a God?"

Itazura shrugged, made uncomfortable by her many questions. "Yes and no," he said. "Not a bearded man in the sky so much, though. Unlike Satan, God is formless. God cannot be seen. He is not completely separate from the Devil, like your fairytales suggest. The Devil is merely an extension of God, as hard as he tries to deny it. All gods and spirits and yes, even demons, are just extensions of this God. He is a non-specific god. Gods of various religions are just His different personalities. There is only one true God, and He is not understandable in any ways. He is uncaring, so humans make his personalities in his stead to comfort their needs. In a sense, I am God. I am a personality of His and humans worship me. Does this make sense?"

Tenma gave a sort of nod, and continued with her interrogation regarding metaphysics. "Who do you worship?" was her new question.

"Myself."

"No, really. Who do you pray to, then?"

"To Satan, so he'll give me another promotion after I've gathered a bunch of new demons."

"You don't pray to that non-specific God?"

"No one prays to the non-specific God. You literally can't. Every time a person tries they'll always unintentionally end up with one of his personalities. God is so vast that inadvertently they identify Him with a certain region or world or something."

"What if he gets lonely?"

"For Satan's sake, Tenma. He's not human in the least… except he is because most of his personalities have many connection to humans…-never mind. I doubt he has emotions."

"If you're a God, or a personality or whatever, do people pray to you?"

"Yes. I'm a prominent spirit in Shinto religion."

"Can you actually hear their prayers?"

"Yes. I'm not deaf, you know."

"Do you answer their prayers?"

"Very very rarely. Most of the time it requires too much effort to work miracles. They'll die soon anyway, so why bother?"

"You're horrible, demon!" Tenma exclaimed.

"Hey, show some respect! I'm a god, you know! Just because you're temporarily my master doesn't mean you get to call me by my common species!"

"You could help people achieve their hopes and dreams, but you don't because it takes too much _effort_? You're so selfish!"

"It takes a while to perform miracles, uneducated girl, and most people are dead by the time those miracles happen! I have better things to do with my time!"

"Like what? Searching the world for new demons?"

"When there are more demons I'll have more time to produce miracles! Do you realize how overworked I've been recently? I'm just glad I'm not in the fucking Hell Transportation Department; the poor bastards in there haven't had any sleep in fifty years! Satan, Tenma-dono, you're overestimating my demonly capabilities! It's shameful but it's true; there's just not enough time to accommodate everyone with miracles."

"Alright, I'm sorry. I need you, Itazura-san. I need your miracles."

"You what would save a lot of time? If I struck this guy with a heart attack right here and now. Then I would have a little free time to show you miracles before I went on my merry, soul-collecting way!"

"No!" Tenma screeched, raising her arms as if to block him from leaving. Itazura raised an eyebrow at her. "No… um… it's just… it's just that I want him to pay _really _badly, um, and I need the extra help of a demon."

"You are ridiculous. Fine, Tenma-san. I'll help you capture and torture this man, or whatever you want. As long as it doesn't take too long. I have places to be and souls to collect. No BDSM fantasy of yours can be a hindrance to me, understand?"

Tenma nodded slowly.

"Good. So tell me, where does this guy live?"

As Tenma relayed information to him, already the gears in his head began to spin. If his master wanted this man to pay the ultimate price, he was going to, in the most lavishly sadistic way possible…


End file.
